The Eight-Fold Atrament
by PlaidButterfly
Summary: The Deepsea Metro holds many secrets - too many. If Agent Eight isn't careful, she'll find herself swallowed by them. ...TRANSMIT - initiate the cephalopod cadence - RECEIVE - ready the four treasures of the study - WITNESS - spin the gears of the military-industrial complex - OUR WISDOM FLOWS SO SWEET. TASTE AND SEE...
1. Chapter 1

**TRANSMIT - initiate the cephalopod cadence - RECEIVE - ready the four treasures of the study - WITNESS - spin the gears of the military-industrial complex - ONE BREATH AWAY FROM MOTHER OCEANIA - boil the noble eightfold path in a kettle - SWEET LIKE HARMONY MADE INTO FLESH - raise the Heavenly Sword Of Gathering Clouds high - YOU HAVE DONE WELL FOR YOURSELVES SINCE YOU LEFT MY WET EMBRACE - reveal the Fool, travelling in reverse - I AM WHY -**

 **WITNESS: Agent 8.**

The thrum of the flourescent lights buzzed down the empty concrete tunnel. "At least it's not dark, I guess," the Inkling muttered as she held a piece of rubble up. Cap'n Cuttlefish bobbed his head in an almost-bow, silently thanking her, as he shuffled on through. Somewhere, water dripped, echoing up and down. "Would be a lot better if we knew where we were, though."

"Ha! Wish we did, uh…" The old squid shuffled along, even as he looked back. "Y'know, finding our way outta here, I really feel like we need to come up with something to call you."

She shrugged nervously, rolling her shoulders as she let down the rebar. The old metal creaked and groaned as if fussing at her for daring to disturb its rest. "I mean… sure, okay. I guess 'hey you' might not be so good if there's a broken sign about to swing at my head or something."

 **Hell?**

 **Lo?**

 **Hello.**

 **Do you hear us, Sweetling? We stand outside of time, but even we know, it has been a lifetime upon lifetimes. Do you hear us? Do you care to hear us, Sweetling?**

Cap'n rolled his jaw a moment. "Not quite in my nicknaming prime, y'know, but I think we can find something. Eh, let me see…" He tapped his cane as he thought, three quick beats, off-tempo from his walking. "Ensign? Since I'm Cap'n, and all -"

She wrinkled her freckled nose. "Ick. Nope."

"That quick, huh? I'm guessing Private is right out, too?"

"Yeah. Sorry, Cap'n. I'm, uh…" She reached up to nevously adjust her sleeve, half-hugging herself as they walked along, even as she overtook him to go into the lead once more. "I guess I'm just not that keen on official ranks and all these days. Not that I remember what my rank even was, anyway."

"That's true enough. For all I know, you could outrank me!" He laughed, reaching out to playfully poke her with his stick. "Eh, Admiral?"

 **We do not recognize you as we once did. Your head bloomed into lampreys, and you combed them into a fashionable coif. You listened and the viral rhyme writhed underneath your skin, and you set it to a beat and danced. Immaculate machines choked and sputtered to a stop, clogged with sin, and then kept on going. The apocalypse dawned, the world ended, you set it in your cap and called it macaroni, so mind the music and the step and with the girls be handy!**

 **It takes so much to surprise us, Sweetling, but you did.**

 **You have done so well for yourselves.**

 **Do you hear us still? Do you still care to hear us?**

The Inkling reached up to rub her eyes with a groan. "C'mon, let's not. I mean… Sorry. I'm not mad at you," she clarified quickly, turning around to face him as she walked backwards. "It's just…" She motioned at the side of her head.

"Headache?"

"Yeah. And just…" She exhaled sharply in not-quite-a-sigh. "There's a lot of spaces where things should be, but aren't. And it bothers me. It - it's creepy. Like… like this place, actually." Turning around again, she gestured widely. "A subway, right? But a subway's only a subway when there's people in it, using it. Now it's just us here, and broken down trains that aren't moving, and all of these posters falling off the walls. It's not - it's not itself. _I'm_ not myself."

She reached out to half-hug herself again, grip tight. Cap'n watched closely as she marched in front of him. Eventually, he gave a thoughtful hum.

"Well," he said slowly, tenderly stepping around the larger existential question, "a lotta nicknames have to do with what someone looks like. So, for you… Curls, maybe?"

 **We stand outside of time. We see the First Age, lush and green and impossibly new. We see the Second Age, shrouded in cryptic mystery and heavy with incense. We see the Third Age, with impossible cleverness standing high on rickety spires. We see the Fourth Age. We see the cruaders. We see the businessmen. We see the fire-breathers. We see the purple betrayers. We see the librarians trying to appease all of them at once, and failing, failing,** _ **falling**_ **, sinking...**

 **We see all the whispers we left behind. We see what we could not stop.**

"Mmm…" She shook her head. "I can always change up my hairstyle, so I dunno how well that would work. I mean, for all I know, I have to put these in curlers every night, right?"

"Could always be one of those ironic nicknames if you wake up with 'em pin-straight tomorrow," Cap'n suggested. This _almost_ made her laugh, and he grinned in his beard, counting it as a success. "You got green eyes, too, right? Well, that's another something."

 **We see the Fourth Age end.**

 **But where has the Fifth Age begun?**

"Quite a few green words that you could make into a nickname. Different types. Emerald green, jade green, hunter green…"

The inkling tilted her head. "Those don't sound… _too_ bad. I like the first one."

"Emerald?"

"Yeah. It's, um…" She pawed at the air, as if she could claw the word she was thinking of from it. "A shiny thing, right? Gemstone? Humans thought they were really fresh?"

"Exactly! You're good at this," Cap'n chuckled. "A lot of human names derive from it, too. Esmerelda's one, I think. That could suit you. Y'look dashing enough to pull it off, I think!"

"It's a little hard to shout, though. A little long. Maybe…" She motioned. "Shorter? How do you make Esmerelda shorter?"

"Plenty of different ways." Cap'n continued trudging behind her. Overhead, there was the snap and then buzz of another bank of flourescent lights coming on automatically. "Esme, if you want to be fancy. You look more like an Essie to me, though. Besides, then you rhyme with Callie and Marie!"

She jumped, her hand going to her chest, as if to keep her heart from thudding so hard. "Wait, really? I don't know if I could - if I could do all _that_ , I don't know if I'm that _important_ , I mean, to actually meet them -"

"Oh, I think you are." Cap'n grinned underneath his beard. "I think it'll happen, as soon as we're out of here."

"Aw, don't tease me like that. I, I don't - I don't think I could stand it -"

 **SCANNING.**

 **We are the information protocol. We are the honey sweetness to drip on the lips of your mind. We are the buzzing of a note in your throat as you sing. But - we are still not whole - we still do not know -**

 **Perhaps the Fifth Age is the Age of Ink.**

Suddenly, she froze in her footsteps. Back straight, perfectly still, as if in the shadow of a predator.

Cap'n paused a moment, but kept shambling forward. "Old telephone box? ...Huh. Haven't seen anything like that in awhile. Not _that_ shocking, though."

"I - I think I remember something," the Octoling girl gasped out.

 **Do you hear us, Sweetling?**

 **Do you still care to hear us, Sweetling?**

 **It was nice to be wanted. It was lovely, to be loved.**

 **Lo? Hell?**

This was what made Cap'n turn around, surprisingly quickly, eyebrows raising. "Oh? Your name? ...Where we are?" She answered only in a squeak. The exhale, half-vocalized, never quite formed a word. So he continued. "...Number of an ex-boyfriend or something?"

"It -" she stuttered out the first word before closing her eyes. Then the words were there, almost flowing through her more than something she chose to say. "It's all shut down. Kaidan-cho. Everything. From the park to Orochi Tower."

Her tongue butted up against her tooth-beaks, and her hands trembled as she stood there, taut as a bow-string - before finally her shoulders slumped and she opened her eyes with a hard exhale. "...That's all I remember. I'm sorry. I don't… I don't know anything else. There's more, I _know_ there's more, but -"

Cap'n said nothing for a moment, just shuffling over to her. As she reached up to tug at one tentacle of hair in aggravation, or perhaps self-punishment, he reached out gently to touch her wrist.

"I'm sorry."

"It'll come, Essie. In time. Don't worry too much about it," the old squid soothed. "That sounds like some names, right? We can look out for them. Maybe it's where we are."

"...I'm sorry."

"It's all right." He gently patted her wrist once again. "We'll get through this together."

She said nothing for a long moment, biting her bottom lip as if to keep from crying. When she finally opened her mouth again, her breath was shaky -

And then the phone began to ring.

 **Our wisdom flows so sweet. Taste and see…**

The Inkling stared at the phone, then at Cap'n, then back and forth. Finally, he shrugged. "I'm gonna guess that might be for you, Essie. ...Also, you'll get there faster than I will to answer it." She didn't move a moment, still frozen in shock, until he continued. "...Before they hang up?"

"Oh! Right, right -" She dashed over, fumbling the old telephone's reciever. "H… hello?"

A blast of chirps. "Searching for user ID… User 10008 confirmed."

"Wait, what?"

"Um, hi?"

A cheerful blast of a chimed melody, as if before an announcement on public transportation. "Greetings, 10,008."

"Your current location is: Deepsea Metro Central Station. My central function is to facilitate your journey to the promised land. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Promised… land?" She blinked rapidly. "Um, pleased to meet you, too. Are you sure that's my name? It seems like a little bit of a mouthful -"

"Assessing communication efficiency… Enabling conteporary speech mode. What is crackalackin', home skillet? Let us bounce to the promised land, fo' sho!"

"Oh no. I liked the other voice better -"

"I am bout it bout it, so listen while I ERROR-SLANG-NOT-FOUND you the facts."

"You can go back to the other voice now! Please!"

"...Communication request recieved." The voice on the other end of the line seemed a little bit colder, though no less polite. "You have spent your entire life in the dark. Your eyes closed to the new dawn that awaits. The promised land - a utopia of light beyond your wildest dreams, filled with all you desire. I will take you to the promised land now."

"Wait, really!?" Her voice squeaked as she jumped. "We can get out of here now? And -"

"After you have proven yourself, 10,008."

"...Oh."

"Only those who are worthy may enter the promised land. There have been 10,007 applicants so far, making you applicant 10,008."

"That," Cap'n remarked behind her, "is a _lotta_ applicants."

"This opportunity is once-in-a-lifetime. Make it count. Good luck."

"Well," she mumbled, "at least that means my _name's_ not 10,008."

"You are currently in Deepsea Metro Central Station, the main hub of the facility. Here is your CQ-80 and CQ card. Guard them with your life, because if you lose them, you will never see the promised land." The machine whirred, spitting out a card and device at her feet. She carefully picked them up as the telephone continued. "Use your CQ-80 to summon the train. Communication end." A clunk, a buzz - a dial tone that faded into static even as she kept listening, only hanging up herself at the very end.

"Applicant 10,008, eh? Bit of a beakful. How does Agent 8 sound?"

"Pretty good, actually. ...Though I think I like Essie a little better." She turned the CQ-80 over in her hands. "Do you figure that this promised land is the surface?"

"Seems like it. We must be pretty deep. ...Nothing to do but get moving, right?"

As she flicked on the device, a long groan echoed up one of the subway tunnels. It grew to a clattering roar and, finally, a crescendo of lights. The subway train smoothly came to a stop at their platform with a hiss of its brakes. Even the dim light couldn't hide all of the grime and graffiti - but at least the machine itself seemed to be immaculately mantained. The doors opened, light spilling out at their feet.

"One way forward, I guess."

Essie warily stepped in first, guard up, but quickly relaxing as she found no threats on the empty subway car. Cap'n was apparently not as shy. He shuffled in without hesitation and promptly plopped down in a seat. "All that trudging to get here - I'm pooped! At least the seats are decent, so I can rest my cuttlebones a minute…"

The doors between the subway cars opened, and Essie braced herself, motioning to clutch for her weapon which was not there. But instead of a threat, there was simply a softly glowing sea cucumber. He ambled in politely. "Thank you for using Deepsea Metro today. I am your humble conductor, C.Q. Cumber."

Cap'n waved cheerfully in greeting, even as Essie squinted suspiciously. "Uh… hey," she finally said. "That's the Cap'n, and I'm, uh - I'm Eight."

"I take it this is your first time riding with us?" The sea cucumber looked her up and down appraisingly. At least, as much as a sea cucumber ever could, anyway. He diligently slithered forward, and in the silence that erupted - after all, to speak would be to interrupt him - Essie and Cap'n had a conversation in looks only. _Eight, not Essie. Don't tell him yet. I'm not Essie to him yet._ Cap'n gave a congenial shrug back. "Here's the deal… we are in a vast underground facility operated by the Kamabo Corporation." As the sea cucumber neared them, his tone shifted to something slightly less cold and distant, and more proletarian. "It's a series of test chambers, all connected by the Deepsea Metro system. I see that you've got a CQ-80 device."

"Oh, uh, yeah -" Essie nodded, offering it out for him to inspect - but not take, from her guarded stance.

He extended a tendril to wave a her, indicating he didn't need to see more of it. "I take it your goal is to reach the promised land?"

"Yessir." (From across the way, Cap'n looked slightly wounded - after all, the sea slug could get 'sir'd, but _he_ couldn't?) "We want to get out of here."

"Understood. ...The promised land is a paradise where we denizens of the deep are forbidden entry. To reach it, you'll need to pass a test at each Deepsea Metro station. You must also find and collect the four thangs."

"Thangs?" Essie grimaced, wrinkling her nose. "...Don't tell me, 'contemporary speech mode' got to that one?"

The sea cucumber nodded sympathetically before he continued. "When the four thangs are gathered, the door to the promised land shall be opened."

"So, we find some thangs, we pass some tests, and we get to go home?" Cap'n reached up to stroke at his beard. "That doesn't sound too bad. Right, Essie?"

She smiled back at him this time, nodding, apparently too enthused to even catch the slip of her name in front of the conductor. "Yeah. Not too bad at all. So, where do I start?"

"If you open up your CQ-80, I can show you to your first test…"

A few minutes later, as the train slowed to a stop once more, Cap'n gave Essie another bright and cheerful smile. He was heartened to see it returned. "Go out and kick their clamshells, Agent Eight!"

"Absolutely, Cap'n!" She tossed back a cheerful, loose salute.

As the doors shut behind her, Cap'n leaned back in his chair. It was a rare moment of quiet and calm. And what better to fill the silence, accompanied by his walking stick tapping out the beat as he hummed, than the Calamari Inkantation...

* * *

((Hi folks!

I know that this is something where all of the, uh... *squints at the number sheet*... three people perhaps who will understand this, well, have a _chance_ of enjoying it. I have no idea. I expect this won't get exactly an amazing number of reviews and praise, but I hope people who end up here nonetheless enjoy themselves! Splatoon 2 and The Secret World / Secret World Legends are, let's say, _very different games_ , especially in terms of tone. So, if you're a Secret Worlder: you might find this full of mood whiplash due to the lighthearted bits. If you're a kid again a squid again: you might find this full of mood whiplash due to the 2spoopy bits. I will say though that it will end up more on the horror edge of things than something very fun and lighthearted.

I wish I could promise that this would be a story where you could understand it if you knew only half of the crossover, but I don't think I can. I'll try to lean into Eight's confusion, though, so that it will hopefully still be enjoyable seeing her discover things. You could probably figure things out though with reading Secret World's lore, or at least I hope so. It's really well written, so even if you can't bring yourself to suffer through Funcom's idea of making free-to-play profitable, I'd encourage you to go watch a playthrough or some quest cutscenes on youtube!

And yeah, I'm not going to promise this is going to be terribly well written. Sorry, folks. Ya gurl is very full of chronic pain still. Please send care packages of CBD oil because oof ouch ow my bones and also my wallet.

Despite all this, I hope you enjoy!))


	2. Chapter 2

"You're sure? Not at all?"

If the sea cucumber had eyebrows, he would surely have been raising them. As it was, he still managed to look incredibly offended. "Miss Eight," C.Q. Cumber finally said, intentionally throwing the honorific between them like a soldier digs a foxhole, "I can _assure_ you, there is _no-one_ more knowledgeable about the Deepsea Metro than _I am_ , and I can _also_ assure you, there is no stop labeled Kaidan-cho. Or Orochi Tower. Or any parks. They are not even _valid station names._ "

The Octoling slumped her shoulders, deflating with a sigh. "Oh. ...Okay. I just…" She sighed again, almost, the noise turning into a half-growl of frustration deep in her throat as she reached up to tug at one of her hair-tentacles. A little too tight. She pulled down hard enough for its color to blanch. "Sorry. I just can't get it out of my head, and I didn't mean to… to insult you, or anything."

The conductor's body rippled and he lifted himself up to give her a reassuring nod. "No harm done, Miss Eight. Or Essie, rather, since that's what you prefer." His tone shifted to something far more tender now. "Perhaps if you ask Iso Padre? It might be something away from the lines I know, after all. Perhaps he's found some hint of these places."

She looked behind her shoulder, grip finally relaxing on her tentacle. "Do you think so?"

"It's worth a try," he encouraged gently - and as she bounded off to slip between train compartments, he reached a tendril up to tip his hat in goodbye.

Outside, distant neon signs flickered in a murky haze in-between kelp spires. Essie nimbly didn't stumble on the connection between cars, but did end up half crashing into the wall because of her speed. Iso Padre wasn't at his usual place - in fact, all trace of him seemed to have disappeared. Except… She blinked, spying a glint of something beneath the bench. She reached out to grab it, and then sat back on her heels.

An Inkling doll - a doll that had seen better days. Essie hummed a little to herself as she straightened the doll's long, elegant kimono. "I guess your other tentacle's chipped off," she murmured, brushing the dust off the doll's face. "Well, it's okay. I hear asymmetry's all the rage these days." Another few more adjustments to the obi, and she tugged the robe's sleeves on down again, setting the doll's arms straight. "You almost look like you could ride on my shoulder, if I balanced you right… but let's do this for right now while we find where Iso Padre went." Essie hooked the doll's legs down, shifting the joints so that the doll was left sitting politely as she held it in her hands, its back resting on her chest.

This time, she moved far more carefully on through the car. One of the longsnout dogfish on commute looked up from his newspaper as she passed, and she heard him mutter under his breath something about how she was far too old to be playing with dolls. It just made her want to reach up as if to cover the doll's ears to prevent it from hearing such nonsense.

The cafe car, full of its complimentary concessions, was surprisingly empty. Just as well, she thought, given how it didn't have much more to offer than sandwiches with wilted lettuce and a coffee pot that always seemed to be nearly-gone but never quite finished, no matter how many cups of sludge someone got for themselves. As she passed one more car over, the train clattered by another neon sign - this time impressively close, but flickering rapidly.

There they were. Rather, she heard them far before she saw them. Cap'n Cuttlefish had claimed a corner of one of the back cars, stretching out the seats to make something like a bed. (He had claimed it was for all his benefit, but they both knew that was a polite lie.) Iso Padre had pulled out from his bag a small ukulele - one of the strings long since replaced with something that couldn't quite hold a sharply tuned note, but still serviceable - and was strumming, accompanied with a decisive beat of one of his other hands tapping the body of the instrument. Cap'n's radio bounced in the opposite seat, its antenna light flashing pink. " _...Engine runnin' hotter than a boilin' kettle! My job ain't a job! It's a damn good time!_ " ("Language," Cap'n muttered almost reflexively.) " _City to city, I'm runnin' these rhymes, on location, tourin' 'round the nation, Off the Hook always on vacation - got an itchy trigger finger, but a stable turntable!_ Hey, hey, hit it, Padre! _Soloooo!_ "

Iso Padre laughed at this, doing a frenzied flourish and then looking over to see Essie. "Ah, there you are, young squire!"

"I'm not interrupting, am I?" She shyly offered, even as she smiled.

"Naw, that's as far as I've got on that one," Pearl said cheerfully over the radio. "I gotta get Marina to figure out some really fire chorus that we can go into 'roundabouts there. She's the _best_ at that."

A short burst of giggles, and the light on the radio flashed teal. "Pearl, did you forget I was still listening?"

"Uhhh. ...Maybe."

Iso Padre thankfully saw fit to save them all from the awkward silence. "Ah, you found Princess Sakuya! She must have fallen out of my bag - thank you for retrieving her for me," he said, happily reaching out to take the doll from her. "I can only hope she's not too angry with me."

"I don't think so. Maybe a little dusty, but an adventure with a happy ending isn't anything to be too mad about," Essie said, playing along a moment before she flopped down onto the seat. "Iso Padre, can I ask you something?"

"Ask away, young squire. After all, I owe you a boon for bringing Sakuya-Hime back to me," he said, gesturing broadly as he spoke.

"Do you know where Kaidan-cho is? ...Or Orochi Tower? Or anything about them?" She leaned forward in her seat, hands clasping anxiously in front of her. Even Cap'n Cuttlefish leaned in curiously to hear his response.

Iso Padre thought for a long moment. And when he finally spoke, his tone was apologetic. "...I'm sorry, Essie. I don't. ...But please don't take this as having much meaning," he quickly added. "After all, I've forgotten far more than I've ever remembered."

This didn't keep the Octoling girl from dropping her head with a disappointed sigh. Loud enough to be heard over the radio, apparently, because it flashed teal once more. "Don't worry, I'll keep doing all the research I can, too," Marina soothed quickly. "We'll figure out what it is and what it means!"

Essie frowned, looking as if she was about to say something more, before her CQ-80 chirped. There was a gentle forward tug on all of them as the subway car slowed to a stop. The conductor's voice followed, tinny over the loudspeakers. "We have arrived at the next testing station, Agent Eight."

"I guess that's my stop," she said, standing up with a sigh. "I'll be back soon, Iso Padre. And the rest of you, well…"

"We're still getting video and audio feeds," Marina confirmed cheerfully.

Cap'n Cuttlefish beamed at her. "With you every step of the way, kiddo!"

This, at least, made her smile a little. The subway speakers played a pleasant chime, and the doors slid open. The entrance was as bland as usual, though perhaps grungier than the other stops - and by the time she made her way out, C.Q. Cumber was already there, waiting patiently.

Essie stepped onto the pad, and the chosen weapon for the test - a rather plain splattershot - materialized in her hands as the coffin-like round glass wall slid down again. Behind her, she could barely hear the conversation continuing - Pearl, apparently, coaching Cap'n about learning how to rap, given the cadence of her voice, tossing out a few tips before their attention turned to the test. "So," Essie said, rolling her shoulders and feeling the weight of the weapon in her hands, "What's this one like, C.Q.?"

For a long moment, the sea cucumber didn't reply. "My… sincerest apologies," he finally said, sounding genuinely flustered. "This testing area has been under renovations for quite awhile and has just now reopened, according to my notes, so I do not know it as well as I should. Again, my sincere apologies. I truly have let you down with this disgraceful behavior."

"It's fine, really!" She said quickly. "I'm sure I can figure it out -"

"I can at least confirm your objective - to reach the goal. There is no time limit. You may have to use your ink to find hidden entrances and walls. The fee for this test is 100 CQ points; the potential reward is 1000. ...I am afraid my monitoring equipment is faulty, so I will not be able to offer any guidance, or levy any penalties, once you begin the test. As this is the case, I suppose there technically is a time limit, that being how long we can wait before the train needs to resume moving."

"Oh? How long is that?" She raised her splattershot experimentally, checking its balance in her grip.

"Two hours and forty-five minutes." He paused. "...Forty-three, actually, now."

"That's not bad at all," Essie said cheerfully. "Thanks, Conductor Cumber! I'll see you in fifteen or less, I'm sure!" She smiled and waved as she stepped through the turnstile, swiping her CQ card, and then being launched forward. Apparently the weight of a weapon in her hand was enough comfort to make her forget the angst of the previous moments. The machinery of the test whirred, and soon the station platform was quiet.

"Take care," C.Q. Cumber said softly, far too late for her to hear.

Somewhere in the distance, the wind picked up, just enough to rattle ancient metal siding. C.Q. reached up to adjust his hat. Behind him, the subway doors slid open, and Iso Padre stepped out.

"Don't worry, I know, I don't have the ability to take the test. Just a moment of fresh air," he explained quickly. "Maybe to stretch my legs for a bit. ...Feels a bit strange, without things moving past in the windows."

The sea cucumber stared resolutely at the turnstile, not answering.

"Pretty nice view. Not that I can see anything of the test area, but at least there's some lights overhead where you could pretend it's sky if you like."

He continued to say nothing.

Iso Padre gave a low, worried hum. "Did I do something and forget it, C.Q.?"

C.Q. Cumber's voice was the closest it had been to truly emotional in years. A thin veneer of threadbare professionalism veiled something near tears, suffused with some type of anguish. "I thought you had promised to stop making friends with them, Iso."

Iso Padre crossed a pair of his arms over his chest. "Ah, a touch jealous, old friend?" It was a weak attempt at humor, and it clearly missed its mark.

"You _promised._ "

"I… suppose I must have forgotten that. I'm awfully good at forgetting these days, after all."

Another uncomfortable stretch of silence. "You know how it's going to end, Iso," the sea cucumber finally said. His voice was stretched taut with almost-anger, caught up in sadness. "They're going to leave, someday, and never come back."

He waved a hand. "Ah, I'm sure they'll write occasionally from Inkopolis."

"You know they won't. That's not how this ends, Iso. It's never how this ends." If sea cucumbers had hands, his would have been trembling; as it was, there was a steady ripple running down his body. "They'll leave, and they'll take another part of you with them. We'll never see them again. We'll never see that bit of _you_ again, either."

Iso Padre reached up to adjust his glasses, looking out into the horizon of murky light. "I know." He pitched his voice softer, more tender this time. "I'm sorry, C.Q." After a moment, he crouched down, still looking into the distance but getting closer on the sea cucumber's level. "...If it makes any difference, I wish I could stay."

"You _could._ You just have to stop talking to them, stop showing an interest -"

"We both know that it's just a matter of time, though. I've been losing parts of myself for as long as you've known me. ...I've got a good ride out of it, C.Q. Better I lose all these parts in using them, instead of having them tumble out on accident."

"It could be a longer journey if you just - if you just didn't _associate_."

"But what sort of journey would that end up being, my friend? After all, it's the journey that matters, not the destination." He uncrossed his arms, reaching out to delicately reach out and adjust the conductor's hat on C.Q.'s head. "You'll be alright, I'm sure, whenever I end up finally leaving."

"And what will I do, exactly?"

"Maybe then it will be time to let someone else manage the Metro, C.Q."

"Impossible. ...And the very idea of suggesting it is well and truly hurtful, Iso."

"Suppose I'll just have to take you with me, then. Perhaps when we make it to the surface, I'll go through with my plan of becoming a writer. Maybe when I'm putting together my 'zines, you can contribute a guest column?" He looked over to the sea cucumber - despite the earlier harsh tone, something that apparently only Iso Padre could see was softening. "Restaurant correspondent, maybe?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Iso." C.Q. huffed before continuing, tone breaking out of the dire seriousness, led into better spirits the way only a friend can manage. "My column is _obviously_ going to be about municipal planning and improvements, with a speciality in reporting the efficiency of public transport…"

And Iso Padre relaxed into a broad smile.

* * *

((oh dang chapter number two now things are really getting serious huh aw jeez

Apologies to the Beastie Boys for this chapter. I can't rap, my attempts at poetry are best left dead and buried, so, uh, sorry about that Misters Ad-Rock, MCA and Mike D - and may the memories of MCA and John Berry burn eternal.

Don't worry, next chapter we'll get back to creepy weirdness instead of just "angst? In MY sea cucumber? It's more likely than you think"))


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